


For G.

by quercus



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-09-15
Updated: 2002-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-05 12:10:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quercus/pseuds/quercus





	For G.

"Lovey," they called him, "Lovey, come help Atlil with his shoes. That's a good boy." So he crouched down in front of Atlil and helped him slip his shoes on, making sure the socks weren't creased uncomfortably, and Atlil would give him a quick hug and then run off to play. "You go, too, Lovey," they'd say, and he'd run after Atlil, laughing.

He lived with the little kids, because he was little kid, that's what they told him. He didn't understand, but there was so much he didn't understand. He shared a room with three other little boys, except he was so much bigger. He had hair on his face and under his arms and between his legs, but they didn't. He was taller than all the kids and most of the grownups, but they still called him a little kid and so that's where he lived.

Sometimes it was good to be so much bigger and taller; he could carry the littlest of them when they got tired, and he could help the grownups in ways the other little kids couldn't. But sometimes it was bad. One time Atlil, Jena, and Bennu showed him the tall cupboard where the sweeties were kept and he could easily reach up and open it, so he gave them all away. When the grownups found out, they smacked his hand, the hand that had opened the cupboard, and then smacked his bottom, and even though it didn't hurt, he was embarrassed and ashamed. He went to the room he shared and lay down, closing his eyes to close out the world.

He thought a lot about words. Like little. How could he be both little and so big? Little meant small, but he wasn't small in any way. Little could also mean young, but he didn't think he was young. He didn't look young, not with the hair on his face and the wrinkles around his eyes. But he also knew they were right, and he was a little kid, compared to the grownups.

"Lovey, would you hold Tsana?" So he'd sit in the too-small rocking chair and hold the baby, tilting the warm bottle to her lips and she'd suck and her face would be blissful and sweet, and he loved her smell, and he'd rock and rock and hold her until she finished and belched and fell asleep. He'd hold her forever, until they'd take her away and tell him to go play with the other little kids.

Little. Words were like doors, he knew. Sometimes you were supposed to open a door and see what was behind it, like when he was sent to the Director and praised for helping the grownups, but mostly you weren't supposed to, like when he gave out the sweeties or when he opened the door to the back office and saw the stranger arguing with the Director. He'd run away then, to his room, and lay down on his bed and closed his eyes to close out the world.

~ ~ ~

"Goddammit, Atherton!" Jack bellowed, and shut his eyes. Jesus fucking Christ, he thought. He'd yelled so much that morning that his throat was sore.

When he opened his eyes, Atherton was in front of him and even though he was big guy, six-six if an inch, and heavily muscled, Jack's words had reduced to him to a state of wide-eyed sweaty fear, and he stood almost trembling in front of Jack.

"Colonel, sir," he started, but Jack held up his hand, in a gesture he recognized as Daniel's. Fuck, he thought. I've absorbed Daniel, right through my pores. Like breathing his coffee fumes, or using his pen.

"Atherton. Son." He took a deep breath. "You are going to get yourself killed. Do you understand? You need to slow down and _think_. Would you do me a personal favor?" Atherton nodded anxiously. "Don't get yourself killed, okay?" Atherton look bewildered, and Jack reached out a hand to take his shoulder and gently shake it. "Just. Don't. Okay?" Atherton nodded.

That was it, Jack thought. That's the sign I was looking for. I can't fucking do this one minute more. He dropped his hand from Atherton's shoulder and then clapped his hands together sharply, three times. "Class dismissed!" he shouted.

"Sir," Atherton tried again, but Jack shook his head.

"Not now." The cadets saluted him crisply, an entire field of young men and women moving in unison, and then they jogged off, happy to escape the terrors of O'Neill. Jack felt in his pocket for his keys and headed for the parking lot. Wasn't even going to go back to his office. He was through.

He drove straight to Cheyenne Mountain and waited impatiently in Hammond's outer office, trying not to intimidate his administrative assistant. He stared at the pictures and plaques on the wall, jiggling the keys in his pocket, those keys to his escape. He wasn't going back, he knew it. Let somebody else take over his class. He'd done his bit, he'd saved the world multiple times, he was, plain and simple, done. As Cassie would say: stick a fork in him.

God, he missed Cassie. He hadn't been over to see her since after Daniel disappeared. She'd been devastated by the loss of one of her adoptive uncles, and he'd held her trembling body as she wept into his shoulder. A big girl now, as big as some of the cadets he'd been terrorizing at the academy, but not a grownup, not yet.

Not that he was, he reflected grimly. He'd been acting out, taking his anger and frustration out on the cadets. Time to knock it off.

"Colonel O'Neill, sir?" He turned; the assistant had the door to Hammond's office open. "You can go in now."

"Thank you," he murmured, and found George looking sadly at him from behind his desk.

"I know why you're here, Jack."

"I'm sure you do, sir." He saluted, as crisply as the cadets had saluted him earlier, and then sat when Hammond pointed at a chair. "Let me go to Abydos."

"Jack," Hammond began, but as he had with Atherton, Jack held up a warning finger.

"No. I'm retiring. That's a done deal. Effective immediately. I'm a lousy teacher, and getting worse. Ask the students. Do a performance eval. I suck, and I bet you already know it. All I'm here for is to get permission to go to Abydos."

Hammond sighed deeply, and rested his head in his hands. Jack stifled the pity he felt for his old friend. This was important, too important to weaken. Finally, Hammond raised his head, and Jack saw again how tired he was. More than that, how much he missed Daniel. "Off the record," he said, surprising Jack, who nodded. "Off the record, every SG team that goes out looks for him. Every damn one, Jack."

"He's MIA."

"Will you listen to me? No one's given up on him. You're the one who left SG-1."

Jack dropped his eyes; George was right. He'd run away once Daniel had been declared MIA. It was either run away or kill somebody. Although he hadn't run far enough.

"Ferretti said something," he mumbled, a little ashamed.

"He told me. We will never give up, Jack. Never. And you shouldn't, either."

"I just want to go home," Jack said, and was humiliated at the exhaustion and despair he heard in his own voice.

"And Abydos is home?"

"It's as much home as anywhere else in the galaxy."

Hammond looked away, scratched his neck, sighed. "Go," he said quietly. "Just go. Do it now. I'll think of something. Retroactively date your retirement. Something."

Jack was stunned. He'd never imagined that the answer would be yes. Part of him was disappointed -- he wanted to argue, to fight, to knock over furniture and stomp out in a fury. But no, he was being given what he wanted. "Now?" he said weakly.

"Now. You still have a locker here, you still have equipment, supplies. Get ready. You have thirty minutes, Colonel."

Jack stood, feeling much younger than he had when he'd walked in. "Thank you, George. I don't know --"

"No fool like an old fool, Jack. Go to Abydos. Let Skaara take care of you for a while. And then go looking for Daniel. We all want him back, and it's what you do best."

This time, Jack's salute was sincere, and even crisper than the cadets' had been.

Carter was off-world, he learned; she commanded SG-1 now, off doing some first contact stuff. Major Davis and Teal'c were part of SG-1, too, so they were gone as well. Ferretti's team was off-world. Nobody to talk to.

Amazing that you could pack up your entire life in twenty minutes, Jack thought as he waited in the gateroom. He'd sent email for Carter to find when she returned, asking her to close up his house for him, dump the milk and bread and bananas, but everything else was taken care of. He'd never had a paper delivered, all his bills were automatically deducted from his pay, including Tran who mowed the lawn and trimmed the bushes. Another email to Teal'c telling him where the spare keys to his truck were, and that he could drive it while Jack was gone. And that was it. That was everything, neatly wrapped up.

George came through for the academy, too, and was personally going to take Jack's class for the rest of the semester. Those poor cadets, Jack thought, smiling to himself.

He'd stopped by Daniel's office, too, and picked up some things. A picture of Daniel and Sha'uri. Their wedding cup. His most recent journal. All tucked away in Jack's already over-full backpack. He stared at the gate, not really seeing it as it was, but seeing the four of them, the old SG-1, standing in front of the event horizon, ready to go. He missed that so much it actually hurt.

"Ready, Jack?" Hammond's amplified voice asked him. He looked up at him and Sergeant Davis and gave them a thumbs up. Hammond nodded and said something, and the gate began to turn. He watched the chevrons light up. How could this be happening? He should be having office hours now, reaming out Atherton, prepping for Wednesday's class, but no, here he was, back in the bowels of the SGC, waiting for the event horizon to whoosh open.

Only this time, he was alone. This time, he wasn't coming back. This time was different.

Full circle, he thought. I'm right back where I started from all those years ago. Another kind of suicide.

For a few seconds, he wavered. He really was stunned at how quickly all this had happened. But he'd wanted it for months. Six months Daniel had been missing. Six months Jack had been fighting to find him. The first six weeks, SG-1 had spent nearly every minute off world, hunting for him. The other SG teams had, too; it had been an enormous effort. God knows how much it had cost. Major Davis had worked hard to persuade the Pentagon to continue the search; he'd come up with more reasons it was vital to find Daniel than a dog had fleas. Good reasons, too, or at least Jack thought so, and for a while the bean-counters had thought so, too.

But at last they'd said no, and the SGC had had to return to business as usual. Only minus Daniel. And that meant nothing was quite the same, nor would it ever be again. Jack had raged, called in favors, pushed his luck, came perilously close to disobeying direct orders, until his 2IC took him aside and laid out the facts for him. "All you're doing, _sir_," she'd told him sternly, clutching her P-90 like a kid's blankie, "is pissing people off. And that won't get Daniel back. There are other ways of doing this."

And she was right. She was out there, with Davis and Teal'c, doing just that. Looking for Daniel. It was all a matter of how they presented their findings. Which planets to visit, which ones to return to, which ones to invest time and money and personnel into.

But Jack hadn't been able to do it. He'd tried for a while, but no way. He was too angry, too lost. He'd once been a pretty good bullshitter, a politician of sorts. You didn't get to be a colonel without know how to kiss ass. But in his fury and grief at Daniel's loss, he couldn't do it anymore.

So he'd quit trying. And for the last ten weeks he'd been teaching at the Academy. Just one class, to the brightest, most advanced students, the ones who might be invited into the SGC, inducted into the greatest secret on earth.

And he couldn't do that, either. All he saw, when he stood in front of the class of eighteen students, were kids about to be killed or lost. Another bunch of potential MIAs. He'd railed at them, bullied them, cozened them, and still it wasn't enough. He couldn't save them. Nobody could. Just luck, just fucking luck, and luck was never enough, it never lasted.

The event horizon engaged and the geyser of time and energy whooshed out before settling into that strangely mirrored surface. He glanced back at the general one last time, nodded, and marched through it. The icy shock of the wormhole thrust him through space and then the dry heat of Abydos greeted him as he staggered through.

And then an armful of Skaara nearly knocked him on his ass and for the first time in weeks he smiled. It felt as though his face were cracking, that a clay mask was shattering, and he clung to Skaara as tightly as Skaara clung to him. "Oneel, Oneel," he kept whispering, and Jack dug his fingers into his robe, hanging on.

When he looked up, they were alone. "Hey," he finally said, his first words since he'd left Hammond's office. Skaara had been crying a little.

"So worried about you," he said in his soft accent. Jack thumbed his tears away and kissed his forehead.

"I know. I'm sorry. Sometimes I'm a jerk."

"Yes, you are."

That's right. Skaara and Daniel had lived together for more than a year; no wonder he'd picked up on Daniel's honesty. Or vice versa. Who knew. Who cared?

"Let's go see your dad. I need to talk to you both." They set out across the sand, Jack digging through his vest for his sunglasses, pulling his cap down tighter against the glare. "Don't suppose you ever hear from your brother-in-law?" he asked, trying to sound casual. Skaara just gave him a look, and he nodded, abashed.

What was he here for? Besides the comfort that being with Skaara and Kasuf brought him? That living in Daniel and Sha'uri's old quarters would bring him? He wasn't real sure, but at least it was something to do. At least it wasn't earth. He was pretty sick of earth right now.

Kasuf was delighted to see him, and they embraced warmly. Shit, this really is home, Jack thought as Kasuf kissed him. "You will stay with us, Oneel," he instructed Jack. "You will find my good son and stay with us."

"That's the plan," he said lightly, but how? After all these months? He'd already done everything he could think of. The best minds in the SGC had worked on finding Daniel; what could Jack do?

Skaara took his hand and said earnestly, "I will help you. I remember much of what Klorel knew. And we have friends, Oneel. Out there," and he gestured wildly, meaning out in the galaxy, beyond Abydos, beyond earth. "We will find him and bring him home."

Jack nodded. It was bullshit, of course, but it brought comfort to all three men, and that's what they needed. That's why he was here. Daniel was gone forever; Jack knew that. He just didn't want to be alone.

He'd been alone too much of his life. Fuck if he was going to be alone anymore.

~ ~ ~

"Lovey," they said, "will you talk to us? Will you tell us what you remember?"

He hated this. He hated it when they asked him to talk. He still had a voice; he hummed to the babies as he fed them, and he shouted with laughter at the games he played, and he howled in misery when frustrated or angry. But words were too hard for him. They were unfamiliar and clumsy in his mouth, like bad-tasting, under-cooked food he wanted to spit out. Still they tried.

And these words were _wrong_. Lovey -- that wasn't a real name. It wasn't his name. He didn't know what his name was, but it wasn't Lovey. They just called him that. They could have easily called him Mep or Dweeb or Hennu. Just nonsense sounds, not real names.

The names for things were wrong, too. He knew it even though he understood them. The knowledge of that wrongness made him cross and out of sorts, and he didn't want to speak. But they were kind to him, and he liked being with the little kids, so he tried to remember.

"Dark," he whispered, but it was the wrong word.

"Lovey, what do you remember?"

Not dark? What then? Words were like doors; some you shouldn't open. Some you couldn't open. But some stood open all the time.

"Home," he said clearly, pleased. He knew that word. And although they frowned and shook their heads, he still knew it was right. Some things you just know, and he knew that word.

There was another word he knew, but he never said it. It lived only in his head. Only at night, when he was lying in bed, listening to the other kids sleep, did he bring out that word. It was a word of comfort, not to be shared with anyone.

"Lovey, what do you remember?" they asked, and because they were kind to him and took care of him, he tried to answer.

~ ~ ~

Skaara did have some ideas. First he made Jack go over the mission again and again, diagramming it out on the sand. Jack stood here, Daniel crouched there, Teal'c ran from X to Y, Carter over there. The whole thing had taken fewer than ten minutes, ten minutes Jack had relived a hundred times, a thousand times. He would literally give his life up he could relive those ten and have it come out different. He would choose death for himself in exchange for Daniel's life.

But nobody took him up on that offer. Nobody wanted Jack's life; it wasn't worth anything to anybody. And time didn't work that way, anyway. It went one way only, and it took Jack farther and farther from Daniel.

But he remembered those ten minutes with holographic clarity. So he repeated them to Skaara, and repeated them again, and again, and still again. Skaara was good at interrogation, too; those years with Klorel had taught him much, and slowly he teased more information out of Jack than Jack knew he'd possessed. So much in only ten minutes.

"We will go there," Skaara told Kasuf one night. "I must see this." Kasuf agreed, and it was so different here than on earth. No bureaucracy. No bullshit. Skaara needed to go to P5X-277 and so they'd go. He brought along two friends, young men who'd admired Daniel, the most talented hunters in Nagada, and then they were through the stargate and back on that hateful planet where Jack had last seen Daniel.

It wasn't the first time he'd been back. He'd come back five different times, with different teams, with different equipment. He didn't really believe that Skaara could do more than all the resources of the SGC and US Air Force could, but neither could he stay away. So he stood where he'd stood, crouched where Daniel had crouched, ran where Teal'c had run, and stood where Carter had stood. Then the four of them reenacted it, repeatedly, until it got too dark and too cold, and they collected around a fire and ate a quiet dinner.

Jack was in hell. Being here was hell. He couldn't eat, could barely breathe. At last, he set down his plate with a clatter and left the companionship of the firelight and stalked away. He needed privacy. He needed space.

But Skaara followed, and maybe Jack had known he would, because at Skaara's touch, he hadn't jumped or pulled his weapon. He'd turned and fallen into Skaara's arms and for the first time in six months let himself go. "We'll never find him," he whispered into Skaara's dreadlocks. "He's gone, he's dead, he'll never know . . ."

Skaara whispered, "No, Oneel. I will not let Danyel be dead. We have lost too many, you and I. Not Danyel. Not Danyel."

Jack lay his head on Skaara's shoulder and sighed. It was bullshit, but it was comforting bullshit. "Find him for me, Skaara," he finally said. "I can't do it. I don't know what to do."

"I will find Danyel," Skaara promised, stroking Jack's back. "This I will do."

He let Skaara lead him back to the fire, where the other two waited patiently for the strange Tau'ri. They were young; they had no doubts. They believed in themselves and, god help them, they believed in Jack.

"Go to sleep, Oneel," Skaara told him, and he obediently lay down, facing the fire. He watched Skaara keep watch over him.

The next morning, Skaara looked exhausted and worn, with circles under his eyes. He took Jack aside, away from the other Abydonians, and spoke seriously to him. "A piece of Klorel still lives in me," he said sadly, and Jack remembered how Jolinar continued to haunt Carter and nodded. "I remember his evil, and his pleasure in hurting others. But I also remember things he knew. And he knew this place."

Fuck. Was Jack's luck going to turn? And because of a Goa'uld?

"What did he know?" he whispered urgently.

"This is a bad place for Goa'uld and their Jaffa. They are not welcome here. You know of Kheb?"

Of course Jack did. Because of Daniel, because of Daniel's obsessiveness and tenacity. "This is like Kheb? Jaffa heaven?"

"It is a myth to the Jaffa, yes. Teal'c would have recognized it if you had known its name: Geb. Where souls are imprisoned."

"So this is hell? Not heaven?"

Skaara shrugged. "I do not know. I only know that Klorel feared this place."

"But that's good, right? If a Goa'uld fears it?"

"I think maybe so. But I think we must know why. So we walk, Oneel. We find these people you saw."

"Skaara, we searched everywhere. We sent out UAVs, flying machines. We sent out search parties. We looked for months, with hundreds of people. How can four people with no technology compete with that?"

Skaara shrugged again. "You look in air. This is Geb. We look in earth."

Well, that made no fucking sense at all. "Skaara, look, I appreciate that you want to find Daniel as much as I do, but we got bupkis here."

"We go now. We find Daniel."

Jack sighed, but really, what else did he have to do? He was retired. He was here at Skaara's request. Might as well take a hike.

They hiked. A lot. Long enough that they learned to live off the land. The stargate had been on the coast, but not far inland the forests grew thick and luxurious. It was chilly enough that Jack could see his breath when they talked, but they were able to live off the land. The boys trapped small animals, and they ate green shoots that tasted like sweet lettuce and berries and something crisp like an apple.

Jack liked it. It was like living in Minnesota, without any grocery stores. He learned to trap the way the boys did, and Skaara proved to be an excellent guide. "We will cross the mountains here," he would say, and lead them through a pass, keeping them out of the snow they could see higher up.

Jawhar and Nur taught Jack a different kind of patience. In the military, it was hurry up and wait. Here, nothing was in a hurry. They walked carefully, knowing that a misstep could result in a life-threatening injury. They watched everything, looking for Daniel and dinner and danger. Jack realized that his anger was slowly draining away. Maybe it was because he was actually doing something, out looking for Daniel. Maybe it was their quiet laughter. Or maybe it was Skaara's confident presence. Skaara's name meant "noble," Jack discovered, and he was a noble young man. A young prince on a quest. And I'm his ancient retainer, Jack thought, smiling to himself.

He still had no hope. But he was no longer hopeless. That made a difference in his life.

Thank you, George, he often thought. How'd you get to be so wise?

They walked for weeks. It's like Lord of the Rings, Jack told Skaara, who was puzzled, so he tried to explain the story. Once Jack started, the others did, too, and as they walked or sat around the campfire, they told each other long tales, things they'd heard, things they'd made up. Nur in particular was a creative storyteller, and he usually ended up telling the last story of the night. Good stories, too, with happy endings. Reunions and weddings and beloved children reunited with grieving parents. Jack liked those stories.

A journey of healing, he told himself one morning. He'd given up trying to shave and had a pretty good beard going. His hair was shaggy enough that Skaara wanted to braid it; he was just about ready to let him. His clothes were dirty and torn, but Jawhar was good with a needle and thread and taught him to mend the tears in it.

One morning he woke up and realized he was happy. The ache for Daniel hadn't left him; it filled his entire life. But some of that longing had changed, and the journey had changed him. He no longer repeated those final ten minutes in agony, begging God for a second chance, to take him instead of Daniel. Jack had somehow absorbed Skaara's confidence, the way he had once absorbed Daniel's.

It was warmer, too; that had to factor into his changed feelings. Nice not to freeze every night. In the afternoons, he took off his jacket and stuffed it into his backpack, although he still needed it in the mornings. And the scenery was changing, too. Instead of evergreens, the trees were deciduous, and in full, beautiful leaf. The mountains they'd struggled over, guided by Skaara, had changed to rolling hills. One day they came to a small lake and spent several days there, swimming and washing clothes and lying nude in the warm sunshine.

And then one afternoon they stood on a hilltop and looked down at a city, a beautiful city of red roofs and white-washed walls, with narrow winding streets. Another ocean spread out beyond it; had they walked across an entire continent?

"The UAVs never found this," he told Skaara, who nodded, staring into the city, shading his eyes with his hand. "Is this what Klorel knew about?"

"I do not know," he admitted, and Jack sighed. Well, at least it was something new. And it was pretty. He hoped they wouldn't be hostile to four strangers.

They spent the night on the hill and approached the city in the morning. Skaara went first, then Jack. As they approached, Skaara said sternly, "You are not to threaten them, Oneel. Finding Danyel is as important to me as to you, and we will be peaceful travelers."

Peaceful travelers. That was Daniel's phrase. Jack nodded obediently, but he remained on guard.

There was no gate to the city, no guard tower, no security force patrolling it. They just strolled into the city limits, marked by nothing more than a paved road lined with flowers.

It was a city of flowers and children, Jack decided, and both were plentiful and beautiful. The kids played everywhere, and seemed completely unafraid of them. Lots of older people were there, too, watching them, teaching them. He liked it.

Skaara approached one of the adults. "My name is Skaara, son of Kasuf, from the city of Nagada on Abydos," he said. "We are here to find my lost brother."

They clearly didn't understand the words, but responded with kind smiles and gestures: follow me, follow me. So they did, heading deeper into the city. Jack watched older kids whitewash a wall and thought of Tom Sawyer. Adults were helping kids water a community garden, and one group was flying kites shaped like beautiful birds, swooping through the air.

Eventually they were taken to a large, low building, very open, very welcoming. Little kids dashed in and out; one collided into Jack's legs and leaned back to look up at him, laughing delightedly. Jack couldn't help but laugh back, and picked him and swung him around, then let him go on his way. The adult who had led them here smiled warmly at him, and patted his arm.

Several other adults emerged, talking among themselves. Skaara tried again, Jack watching him with pleasure.

"We are looking for my good brother, Danyel Jackson," Skaara repeated several times, looking into their faces. Searching for the truth, Jack thought.

One man was watching Jack, and pointed him out to the others. Jack stood nearly at attention as they drew near. A woman touched the SGC patch on the shoulder of his jacket; another gestured at his backpack.

Had they seen these things before? Had Daniel been on this planet all these months? For the first time, Jack permitted himself to feel a flare of hope, but he quickly squashed it out. No. He would not hope. With Skaara's help he had transcended hope. This was just what he did now. Nothing more. Daniel was dead.

"Oneel," Skaara said sharply. "Show him the image of Danyel."

Jack dropped the backpack and rummaged through it until he found the photograph. He pulled it out of the journal he'd tucked it into and showed it to the inhabitants of Ged, of this building. He refused to hope.

They flipped it over several times; obviously, they'd never seen a photograph before. He tried not to grow irritated with their interest in the glossy paper rather than the images on it, until at last they studied it. "Moretto," one said, and looked up at Jack. She held up the picture and pointed at Daniel. "Moretto, mio Moretto, que dmahz."

Jack stopped breathing. His ears began to ring. He couldn't swallow, couldn't speak. Skaara said, "You know this man, yes? My brother? Where is he?" He jabbed at the picture of Daniel. "Where?"

They conversed among themselves again, and then gestured for them to come inside. Jack, Skaara, Nur, and Jawhar were taken to what looked to Jack like a schoolroom, with big maps and pictures on the walls. The woman stopped in front of a map and tapped sharply on it, then pointed to her feet. Okay. We are here. Jack peered at it; clearly it was the outline of a coast, and here was a city. He nodded at her, and she put her finger on the map and drew a line up. A long way up, following the coast. Finally she stopped.

"Seeta o amahbluh," she said, or something like it. Why wasn't Daniel here? Jack thought, wanting to laugh. He needs to be here so we can find him. But it was obvious where they had to go. He looked at Skaara, who nodded at him.

"We will leave tomorrow," he said, and bowed to the woman.

Jack wondered how much farther they had to go, and then remembered that it didn't matter. This is what he did now.

Things happened. More people came and looked at the picture. They were taken to a guest room, like a big hostel, where they spent the night. They were fed well, and the children came to see them, laughing at their outlandish clothes and nonsense language. Jack found himself rolling around the floor in front of the fire, kids happily crawling over him. This was a good place, he told himself. They'd take care of Daniel.

But he couldn't sleep that night. What if it was a mistake? Or a trap? Or Daniel had died? Or been taken someplace else? There was a whole world here to search, and it had a stargate. He tried not to hope. Hope was dangerous. Hope was a lie.

"Oneel," Skaara said to him after they'd left the whitewashed city behind them. "Do you believe them?"

"I don't know," he finally said. "I'd sure like to."

"I, also, wish to believe," he said wistfully. "But if Danyel were here, he would speak the language now, and --" He didn't finish. He didn't have to. Jack already knew.

If Daniel were here, he would speak the language by now, and he would be home. Ergo Daniel was not here. This was just one more wild goose chase.

But what was one more? It didn't matter. This was his job now. He followed Skaara, Nur and Jawhar behind him.

~ ~ ~

Something had changed. Ever since he'd opened the wrong door and seen the stranger arguing with the Director, things had changed. He was a little afraid he'd be smacked again for opening that door, but nobody had noticed him. Still, things had changed.

They didn't let him leave unless there was an adult with him now. He could still go with the children, still play with them, but not by himself. And they made him try to remember more often.

Sometimes he cried. He hated that. He was sure he wasn't supposed to cry. Even though they said he was a little kid and lived with them, he was as big as the grownups and he'd never seen a grownup cry. They didn't hit him, they didn't yell at him, they just asked him over and over what he remembered, until he'd cry. Then they'd stop for a while.

And the words hurt his throat and mouth. They were the wrong words. He could understand them; that wasn't the problem. And he could talk. He could sing. He loved to sing with the children. In the morning, before breakfast, during class, in the evenings, they all sang, and he sang, too. But now the grownups watched him when he sang, and he grew shy under their constant gaze.

"Dark," he'd say. "Darkdarkdark." The Director once put her hands on his head and stroked him gently, soothing him. "Home," he said to her, tears staining his face. "Oh, Lovey," she said, and shook her head sadly.

But he never said the other word he knew, the word he said only in his head.

One day he was out with Atlil and Jena and Bennu flying a big kite, the biggest kite he'd ever seen. There was a grownup with them, of course, which annoyed the others, but they still let him play with them. Atlil was too little to run fast enough to make the kite fly, but he could. He was the fastest runner in the whole school, and he loved to run. He loved the feel of the grass under his feet and the air pumping in and out of his lungs. He'd shout with pleasure and jump in the air, and the other kids would laugh and jump with him.

Kite flying was even better, because there was the kite streaming above you, dancing and swirling, writing hieroglyphs against the blue sky. Bennu was fast, too, and the two of them took turns running and running, while Atlil sat and laughed, and Jena ran in a big circle.

"Lovey, Lovey!" they called and he ran faster, dodging Bennu and Jena and jumping right over little Atlil where he sat, the kite following him as obediently as a dog.

"Dog," he tried to say, but the word got caught in his throat, and it didn't matter anyway.

He saw people on the hill watching him and ran for them, arms stretched out above his head, making the kite dance.

~ ~ ~

"Danyel," Skaara said, and fell to his knees. Jack caught him and pulled him up.

"Are you sure? How can you tell?"

"Just look, Oneel! Have you not eyes?" Well, he did, but they were fifty-year-old eyes, so he pulled out his binoculars and then he nearly fell down, too. Because it was Daniel. Running and laughing like a maniac with all those kids, flying an enormous yellow and orange kite.

"Oh my god," he murmured, and started jogging down the hill toward him, Skaara and Nur and Jawhar at his side. "Daniel!" he bellowed, but he kept running, making the kite zig and zag above them. "Daniel!"

Their escorts ran, too, pulling at them, trying to get them to stop. "Goddammit," Jack protested, pulling away, but Skaara put up his hand and Jack stopped. "What?"

The woman who had met them at the harbor pointed to Daniel and then touched her head. She opened her mouth as if to talk but no sound came out.

"He cannot speak," Skaara said, horror in his voice.

"Then we'll take him back to the SGC and they'll fix him up," Jack said. But he walked now, he didn't run any more. He walked to Daniel.

Daniel clearly saw them, Jack knew. His hair was long, as long as it had been when Jack had first met him, and his glasses were gone. He wore the same white clothes that everybody did here, and a clunky bracelet, like the little kids wore but not the adults.

"Moretti," the woman called, her voice tender, and Daniel looked up at her, coming to a stop. The kite drooped and slowly returned to earth. "Moretti, mio Morettito, benney." Daniel handed the string to one of the kids, and walked to her. She stroked the hair from his face and kissed his cheek, then spoke to him. His eyes never left her, never acknowledged Jack or Skaara's presence until she gestured at them.

He looked first at the smaller boys, Nur and Jawhar, then at Skaara. He studied Skaara for a long time, nearly a full minute, his eyebrows drawing together in a frown. Finally, he looked at Jack.

Jack's heart was thudding so loudly in his chest that he thought everyone could hear it. This really was Daniel. He wasn't dreaming. He wasn't imagining this. Skaara was here, and he saw Daniel, too. He wasn't drunk, he wasn't on something, he wasn't hallucinating. It was Daniel.

"Daniel," he finally said, his voice like the wind. "Oh my god, Daniel." How long had it been? Over seven months? And he wasn't dead, he wasn't being tortured by the Goa'uld, he was here and healthy.

Daniel slowly lifted his hand and touched Jack: first, his shoulder, the SGC patch again, which he stroked almost affectionately. Then Jack's face, his chin, the scarred eyebrow, his grey hair. "Do you know me?" Jack whispered. "It's me, it's Jack."

Daniel's mouth dropped open and he stepped back. "Daniel, please. It's me, it's Jack, remember? Remember Abydos? Remember beer and ice hockey and Minnesota? Remember Carter and Teal'c? Oh god, Daniel, please, remember."

The kids had gathered around Daniel, almost protectively; the tallest stepping between Daniel and Jack. The little girl put her arms around his waist. The adults watched them warily, and Jack realized these people loved Daniel, and were afraid for him. He unclipped his backpack and let it drop, then dug out another picture.

This was a small snapshot, taken by Carter when they were off-world someplace. Who knew where. Well, Daniel would've known, the old Daniel. He was crouching before a stela, staring at its carved surface. Jack was leaning against it, staring down at Daniel, his mouth open with some long-forgotten smart-alecky remark. Jack held out the picture to Daniel, who continued to stare at Jack's face. After an awkward moment, he held the picture up next to his face, pointing at it. "See? It's us. That's you and me, Daniel."

At last his eyes slid from Jack's face to the picture. The biggest kid said something to Daniel, who took his hand but didn't answer. "He cannot talk, Oneel," Skaara reminded him in a whisper. "Do not ask him to do what he cannot."

"I'm not asking him to talk," Jack said roughly. "I'm asking him to remember me. To remember _us_."

Still they stood there, under the brilliant sky, the sunlight flooding down on them, the breeze tossing Daniel's hair. The woman who had called him over began to shake her head, and the little girl hugging him began to cry. Daniel stroked her hair and then pulled her closer to him. The woman said something else, glancing at the picture Jack held.

Then Daniel said, "Jack," and Jack heard Skaara cry out, heard Nur and Jawhar murmur, heard the woman ask him a question, but he couldn't take his eyes off Daniel. "Jack," he whispered, and Jack nodded. Now he couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. He shoved the picture into a pocket and tried to think what to do next.

~ ~ ~

So that was Jack, he thought, rubbing Jena's head. All this time, and it really meant something. The word he'd never shared, never admitted to. There was a meaning to it, a person behind it. Someone tall and grownup and urgently speaking to him. Jack wanted him to speak, too, like the others. But Jack called him "Daniel," and he knew that was right. He wasn't Lovey. Or maybe he was Lovey here, but he hadn't always been here. That's what he couldn't remember. That he hadn't always been here.

"Home," he said, and Jack's face split into an enormous smile, one he couldn't help but respond to.

"Yeah, home," he said, and the grownups all went ahh. "Let's go home. And soon. There are a lotta people who missed you, Daniel. They're all at home, waiting for you."

He understood most of that. Daniel, of course, and home. Waiting? That was familiar.

These words were familiar. These words were all open doors, doors never shut to him. Doors that had patiently waited for him to find them, except he hadn't. Jack had had to find him and lead him to these doors.

Another word came to him. "Sam?"

Jack's grin grew even bigger. "Sam's fine," he said, and he saw that Jack was almost crying. Grownups never cried, so he was a little frightened, but he watched as Jack took a deep breath. "Sam's a colonel now herself; she's head of SG-1. And remember Major Davis? Well, he's a member of SG-1, too. And Teal'c?"

Teal'c. That word conjured up too much; he shook his head. He didn't want to know that word just yet. Later.

Then Jack touched the young man at his side. "Do you remember Skaara, Daniel? Your brother?"

He stared at them. He remembered Jack. He remembered Skaara. But the word wouldn't come. It was a painful word, a sad word, a door that led to great pain.

"Brother," he could say, though, and Skaara hugged him, pushing past Bennu and squeezing him tightly.

"Yes, yes, my good brother. Oh, I have missed you, Danyel." And Skaara kissed his cheek before stepping back.

"Can you translate, Daniel? Tell these folks you want to go home?"

"Home," he said doubtfully. Did he want to go? He didn't want to talk to anybody except Jack. He looked down at Jena, hugging him, and at Bennu, trying to protect him. Gently he disengaged from Jena and handed her to the grownups; he patted Bennu and kissed little Atlil, and then took Jack's hand and led him away, back from the others.

Jack followed him, talking, but he wasn't listening to words now. He was listening to Jack's voice, remembering. When they were away from the others he stopped, playing idly with Jack's hand.

"What happened, Daniel? Why won't you talk to me? Are you all right?"

Still he looked only at Jack's hand. He'd learned not to look at too much; he couldn't take in too much at once or it frightened him. So he looked at Jack's hand and let himself know it, know that he remembered it and knew it well. The scars, the short nails, the calluses. Why did he know this hand?

Jack was trembling now, so he stroked Jack's arm, soothing him. Another word came to him. "Okay," he said, and Jack laughed. "Okay, okay."

"Okay, Daniel," Jack said in a shaky voice. "If you say so."

"Okay," he insisted, and continued to pet Jack, trying to calm him.

"Will you come home with me, Daniel?" Jack asked, his voice still shaky.

He stroked Jack's arm, from the shoulder to the hand, again and again, the fabric familiar, the muscles beneath it familiar. "Okay," he said again, and Jack sighed.

"I missed you so fucking much," Jack said, and he nodded.

At last he felt strong enough to raise his head and meet Jack's eyes. He remembered those eyes; he dreamt of them. He'd comforted himself in bed at night by remembering them. Jack. Jack's eyes. Home. "Home," he said. "Okay."

Jack slid his arms around him and held him tightly, the way Jena had held him. "Okay," Jack whispered. "We found you. God wouldn't let me find you if it wasn't okay."

Maybe, maybe not, he thought, but nodded. Jack.

~ ~ ~

Jack watched Daniel compulsively. He slept near him, on the floor of the room Daniel shared with three others; he ate with him; he went to class with him. The caretakers here weren't wild about letting Daniel leave with them, despite the photos, despite Daniel's acquiescence. They were uncomfortable with his muteness, with Jack and Skaara's obvious alienness, with the idea that Daniel would be leaving them.

That was one good thing. They loved him. They'd taken care of him. They'd tried to find out where he'd come from and how he'd been injured. Jack was so grateful for all they done.

This was an orphanage, he realized. Lots and lots of orphans. People were regularly killed here by some terrible disease that struck those over thirty. So the older people who survived took care of the younger ones, taught them what they needed to know. The kids did everything, but everything was a game, from weeding the gardens to mowing the hay to harvesting the fruit. Everyone ate well, everyone was sheltered and educated and loved, including Daniel.

Nirrti, Jack guessed, although he didn't her mention to anyone, because who could he tell? But he recognized her evil chemotherapy at work, and then, when it had failed, she'd left these people to manage by themselves. No wonder the Goa'uld avoided this place.

But what had happened to Daniel? Would he ever know? It doesn't matter, he scolded himself as he helped Daniel with the littlest kids. All that matters is that he's here with me, and that he's coming home.

Skaara felt the same way. They spoke freely in front of Daniel, in the hopes he understood and might even join in. Maybe tell them what happened. But he didn't. Just listened attentively, his face bright with silent intelligence. "Perhaps someone else came through the chapaa'ai," Skaara suggested. "But these people rescued him."

Jack didn't know. He'd gone over his memories so often they were no longer memories, but something else entirely. A story someone had told him, half forgotten. Maybe that's what had happened with Daniel. He'd forgotten language.

"Doesn't matter," Jack told Skaara as they pulled weeds from a flowerbed, Daniel pointing out what to leave alone. "He can talk. He can understand. If he can't remember, well, I'll tell him. I'll tell him everything. Right, Daniel?"

Daniel looked up and smiled, and Jack's heart melted. "Jack," he said, one of the dozen of so words he now spoke.

Nur and Jawhar wanted to go home. "How long must we stay?" they asked Skaara, who shrugged. "Until they let us go," he said mildly, but Jack knew he wanted to go home, too. He was worried about Kasuf. And Jack wanted to go, too. He felt that Daniel would recover more quickly among his family. But he didn't want to antagonize their hosts, so he counseled patience.

One night, they sat around a fire after dinner, the little kids falling asleep in their laps. The caretakers were there, too, of course; they never left Jack and the others alone with Daniel or the children. Which Jack actually approved of, but still found annoying. Daniel sat next to Jack, smiling to himself. He stared at Jack for a long time, and then finally reached out and tugged at Jack's hair. Skaara had braided it into lots of little braids, like miniature dreads, but Jack had forgotten. He blushed, and scratched his chin. "Yeah, I look like hell. Never could wear long hair. Not like you," and he tugged at a lock of Daniel's hair.

Daniel tugged again on one of Jack's braids, and they laughed. Then Daniel put his arms around Jack and rested his head on Jack's shoulder. Without a thought, Jack kissed his head, and sighed.

When he looked up, the female caretaker was watching them, a smile on her face. She nodded at Jack, and then left the room.

Well, who knows what that was about, he thought, and drowsed in front of the fire until she returned and helped the children to bed. Daniel went, too, smiling good night at Skaara, Nur, and Jawhar, who slept in their own room. Jack helped settled the little ones in their beds and then lay down on the floor near Daniel's bed. Daniel rolled onto his side so he could see Jack and dropped his hand onto Jack's.

"Home tomorrow," he said, and Jack was instantly awake, his heart racing. Tomorrow, that was a new word for Daniel.

He lay awake for much of the night, wondering what had happened. He finally fell asleep, but woke to find Daniel's bed empty. The other kids slept on, so he got up and wandered around for a while. Down a hallway, he heard voices, so he followed them, and then saw a half-open door.

Daniel's voice, he realized, speaking a few words in the language of these people. The woman from last night was there, too, and another woman, someone Jack had immediately recognized as in a position of authority here. He stood in the dark hallway, trying to breathe quietly, and waited. Daniel was talking; that's what's important. The sunrise slowly filled the hallway with light, and then he could see into the room where they were. Daniel was smiling, listening attentively, while the two women spoke to each other. An argument? About Daniel? Or maybe not; Daniel was smiling, after all.

Then Daniel saw Jack and rose, waving to him. Busted, he thought, and came down the hallway to him.

"The Director says we can go," Daniel told him. Jack stared at him.

"You're talking now?"

Daniel nodded. "A little. From you, I think," he said, but Jack had a feeling he wasn't joking. "Maybe from you. We always did talk a lot."

Jack nodded. That was true. Right from the beginning, he could talk to Daniel, in a way he'd never talked to anyone. "I'm so glad," he said, his voice only a whisper.

"Me, too." To Jack's further shock, Daniel reached out and touched Jack's lips. "I used to dream of you. Almost every night. I missed you so much. I couldn't remember much, but I remembered you."

"Oh, god, Daniel," Jack tried to say, but now words had left him, and he was nearly as mute as Daniel had been.

"Okay, okay," Daniel whispered, and Jack grabbed on.

"Home," Jack said.


End file.
